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ECHOES 

OF THE 

GLAD OLD TIME 



" Just a little greeting word — 

A silent sign and token, 
"•That tells, by mutual memories stirred, 

T'hat heart to heart hath spokenJ' 



REMINISCENCES 



OF 

THE VAN NEST HOMESTEAD 

BY 

Mrs. Ann Van Nest Bussing 

ALSO 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH 



PRINTED FOR PRIVATE 
CIRCULATION 



NEW YORK 



MDCCCXCVII 



-J- 





THE RESIDENCE 
OF ABRAHAM VAN NEST, ESQ 

THE OLD WARREN MANSION 



HE old Warren Mansion, the most ancient and the 

most notable landmark in Greenwich Village, stood 

^jj. in the center of the block, now bounded by 

Bleecker, Fourth, Charles and Perry Streets. 
It was built in 1740 by Sir Peter Warren, Vice-Admiral 
3Ji in the Royal Navy, and at that time in command of the 



THE RESIDENCE OF ABRAHAM VAN NEST, ESQ 

British fleet in this port, who made it his summer home in dis- 
tinction from his town house on the Bowling Green. In 1748, 
when the smallpox was raging in the city, the Colonial As- 
sembly accepted Sir Peter's tender of his country seat, and 
adjourned thither to escape the plague by being in the country. 

The Admiral married a daughter of Stephen Delancey, of 
New York, but subsequently returned to England, where he 
died in 1752. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. 

He left three daughters, one ot whom, Charlotte, married 
the Earl of Abingdon. Upon the division of the estate, she 
inherited the homestead with fifty-five acres of land round about 
it. Later, this property passed into the possession of Abijah Ham- 
mond, who subdivided it into blocks and lots. The block in 
question, with the mansion house, was sold in 1802 to White- 
head Fish, who resided there until his death. In 1819, 
his executors sold it to Abraham Van Nest. 

Notwithstanding the surging waves of aggressive progress 
which gradually blended the city with the rural districts and 
absorbed them, Mr. Van Nest made this beautiful spot his 
home — at first as a summer retreat, later his permanent resi- 
dence — for nearly fifty years, preserving every feature of its an- 
tiquity intact, in the midst of a densely populated district of the 
city. 






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"ECHOES OF THE GLAD 
OLD TIME" 



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; RS. Ann Van Nest Bussing, wife of the late John 

^- S. Bussing, (now in her eighty-sixth year), recalls 

■-T^^l^- her childish pleasure when, in the eighth year of 

her age, her father purchased the " Warren House" 

k^ at Greenwich Village — then two miles beyond the city limit — 



yM% and the subsequent yearly removals from the city home in 
"V' William Street, where the Corn Exchange Bank now stands, 
"V to the charming new country seat. 

New York seemed far removed, and the drive to and fro 
a lonor and tiresome one, each point on the journey — Chambers 
Street, St. John's Park and the old English Burying Ground — 
being noted in passing, as bringing one so much nearer home. 

The Knickerbocker line of stages — Kip and Brown's — ran 
every hour to and from the village to the city, those desiring to 
take the trip giving notice at the office, that the stage might 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

call for the passengers. So lonely and dark was the road at night, 
that when Mr. Van Nest was detained later than usual at church 
meetings, his wite anxiously awaited the arrival of the carriage, 
fearing lest harm might have overtaken him by the way. 













&.fc?«-^.;^M' 



Originally, the place extended to the Hudson River, and a 
double row of century-old buttonwoods formed an avenue all the 
way down the gentle slope to the water's edge. The house at 
that time was approached from the west by a circular driveway 
which made an extensive sweep around the lawn. This beautiful 
curve always remained defined, even when grass-grown. 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

The house stood in a perfect forest of grand old trees, horse 
chestnuts, willows, poplars, sycamores and locusts forming in 
some places an impenetrable shade. Besides these, were peach, 
apricot, and cherry trees, always laden in their season with delic- 
ious fruit, while a pear tree, standing guard at one corner of the 
house, could almost thrust its giant branches into the upper win- 
dows. 

The long garden extending the entire width of the block, 
was in summer days a veritable fairyland of flowers, where holly- 
hocks and coxcombs, sweet-william and bleeding-hearts, ragged- 
sailors and maid-in-the-mist, bachelor-buttons and wallflowers, 
" old-man " and mignonette, lilies, clove pinks, phlox, poppies, 
larkspurs, strawberry shrub and all the other dear old-fashioned 
favorites grew in profusion in their fancifully shaped, box-bordered 
beds. During the month of June, the garden was literally pink 
with roses. 

In the spring, when the grass was studded with golden dan- 
delions, and hedges of hawthorn, syringas, and purple and white 
lilacs were in bloom, and snowballs nodded over the old stone 
sphinx heads at the garden gate, while just below them, the lilies- 
of-the-valley shook perfume from hundreds of tiny bells, and 
violets and snowdrops peeped out on every hand, it was all so 
beautiful, that the remark of a former resident, upon revisiting the 
spot, did not see,m extravagant, that " when she left, she felt like 
Eve leaving Paradise." 

Nor must the vegetable garden be overlooked. Lying in 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 



another corner of the square, it possessed a beauty all its own — 
corn stalks with silken plumes, bean poles with their merry climb- 
ers, luscious melons ripening on the ground beneath, asparagus 

beds, currant, gooseberry, and 
raspberry bushes growing luxuri- 
antly, even when brick and mor- 
tar walls finally overtook lovely 
" Greenwich," and closed in 
around this beautiful two-and-a- 
half acre block which held such a 
rare gem of genuine countrv life 
in its most refined phase. 

In later vears the carriage 
road ran through from street to 
street ; at one side stood the 
stable and carriage house, and the 
old red cow could often be seen 
grazing in quiet content on the 
grassy slopes of the lawn. The 
ground on which the house stood 
descended so rapidly, that while 
the steps of the front veranda 
were five in number, those in the 
rear numbered fourteen. This 
natural hill afforded in winter 
days a grand coasting place for the 





ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

children of the family. These undulations, grassy banks and ter- 
races — in one of which the ice-house was hidden — increased the 
rural aspect and added greatly to the general picturesqueness. 

A wide hall extended through the house, and from the first 
landing of the broad, old-fashioned staircase a tall " ancient time 
piece " ticked its continuous song. 

Many changes did the old clock note as it kept watch 
" from its station in the hall." 

" "There groups of merry children pla\ed^ 
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed ; 
From that chamber^ clothed in white^ 
The bride came forth on her ivedding night ; 
There in that silent room beloiu^ 
The dead lax in his shroud of snoiu." 

The heavy pendulum in its stately, steady march through 
nearly fitty years, swung frequently between sounds of sorrow 
and of joy. Four times did the wedding bells ring, when one 
daughter after another received the marriage blessing in the spa- 
cious but home-like parlor, while the family portraits 
which lined the walls looked calmly down upon the 
succeeding festivities. 

More often did sorrow overshadow the happy 
home ; for not only did infancy, childhood, youth and 
manhood again and again fall at the touch of the 
Reaper, but also the dearly loved and honored 



1830 




ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

Mother — the " beautiful " Grandmother — who from that quiet 
" room below " passed peacefully into the Paradise of God. 

The gatherings at Christmas-tide, when the entire family, 




ABRAHAM VAN NEST 



children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren — in later years 
numbering about fifty — rallied at the old homestead to cluster 
around the beloved patriarch and exchange " Merry Christmas" 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

greetings, are now remembered as " story-book times," as " fairy 
tales," or " beautiful dreams of long ago." 

Dearly did the little children love to stand by " Grandpa's" 




MARGARET FIELD 



WIFE OF ABRAHAM VAN NEST 



side, and feed the pigeons from the " Study " window, when in re- 
sponse to his gentle call of " coo-coo," there would be a sudden 
fluttering in the dove-cots, and like a cloud of grey and white. 




ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

the birds would alight on the grass by 
scores to receive the handfals of corn 
which were showered upon them. In 
this same room, the sanctum sanctorum^ 
were initiated many plans for the pro- 
motion of the welfare of the Reformed Dutch Church, whose 
interests were so dear to the heart of Mr. Van Nest. 




" In that tnansion used to be 
Free-hearted hospitality ; 
His great fires up the chimney roared^ 
T^he stranger feasted at bis hoard.'''' 



Especially were the doors thrown open to the clergy, who 
were most welcome and frequent guests. 

On the ground floor was an interesting relic of olden times — 
the double Dutch door, which opened gardenward ; and often 
might be seen leaning upon it the old colored Aunty who dur- 
ing Mr. Van Nest's childhood had lived as a slave in his father's 
family, afterward serving nearly forty years in his own, and whose 
descendents remained with him to the end of his life. 

The cellar, with its stone floor, and hanging shelves laden 
with shining pans of milk and cream, its churn producing the de- 
licious home-made butter, and the intensely cold and icy vault 
below, all became in time curiosities, as the city drew near, in- 
vaded, and finally captured the little village of Greenwich, and 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

then passed rapidly on to lay its vigorous and prosaic hand on 
other suburban districts further up town. 

Notwithstanding these encroachments, Mr. Van Nest "pur- 
sued the even tenor of his way," and retained this beautiful spot 
as his home — a refreshing oasis in the city of New York — until his 
death in 1864, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. 




GEORGE VAN NEST 

BORN AUGUST 27TH, I736 DIED NOVEMBER 2ND, 182I 

THE FATHER OF ABRAHAM VAN NEST 



Shortly afterward it was sold, the trees felled, the house 
demolished, and the whole place, so filled with sacred associations, 



ECHOES OF THE GLAD OLD TIME 

swept out of sight ; but never will it cease to exert its magic spell 
over the minds and hearts of those members of the family circle 
who were old enough to remember the happy, happy days at 
" Grandpa's house at Greenwich." 

" Long^ lotig be my heart luith such memories filled^ 
Like the vase in ivhich roses have once been distilled ; 
Tou may break^ you may shatter the vase^ if you will^ 
But the scent of the roses luill hang round it still." 

M. B. 




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